Insomniac
by Wafflegirl0304
Summary: It's a cold winter's night, and Wirt is sleepless. Greg claims ice monsters have gotten the better of him, but who else have they taken under their control? Slowly spirals into Infinite Eyerolls.


**so...I've been really dead for a while, and I'm sorry. I don't know if I can make it up with this, seeing as most of my readers might not have heard of this cartoon. I'll post it anyway. enjoy!**

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><p>Wirt's room was the coldest it had ever been.<p>

He could hear the wind howling outside his window, as if it was threatening to tear his walls down. The moonlight fell in a pale square on the wall opposite him, streaked by thin shadows.

_Snowing again._

Would Greg be scared? His little brother wasn't scared of much. But if thunderstorms could spook the kid, maybe a snowstorm would too.

He laughed to himself. It was funny, how he held so much more fear than his brother. Weren't older brothers supposed to be the brave ones?

"Wirt!"

Startled, Wirt jumped in bed. It only took a moment to register who the voice belonged to, and he opened the door without any hesitation.

Greg stood before him, holding a pillow almost as big as himself. He bounced on his heels nervously.

"The snow monsters were at my window, Wirt! You shoulda seen 'em―I tried to beat 'em up, but I needed reinforcements, so I―"

"Come in," the teenager sighed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a wan smile. He closed the door behind Greg as said boy dashed past scattered books and papers to his bed.

"Hey, where's Jason Funderberker?" he asked, settling back into bed. Greg had pushed Wirt's pillow into the corner, forcing his own beside it. He smiled at Wirt, his large eyes shining in the moonlight.

"I didn't want to wake him up," he said, snuggling close to the teenager. Wirt pulled his blanket over the both of them and ruffled Greg's hair.

"And you thought he'd mind more than I would?" he asked, letting the humour into his voice. Greg giggled and dived under the covers, a wriggling mass underneath the blanket.

Wirt sighed again. Sleep never came easy, not even before he and Greg had gone over the wall. It was torturous, lying in the darkness of his room, his eyes pried open by some invisible force that hated his guts. Sometimes he could still see the Beast in the corners of his eyes, and fear would come crawling up his legs and seizing his neck.

He was grateful that he had memorised so much poetry. It wasn't difficult to pluck stanzas from the top of his head and whisper them between his lips. It was a distraction, a lullaby only he could fall asleep to.

That wasn't the only reason for his sleeplessness. He knew that too well. But he hadn't told Greg about _this_ reason.

He closed his eyes and saw her, the girl who haunted his dreams. She had fiery red hair and a pair of glowing wings. She never said a word, but she was always here. She was etched into the back of his eyelids, burned into the surface of his brain.

He didn't even know who she was. It had been a cause for concern that faded into a constant annoyance. He simply accepted it as something he would have to deal with. For now, at least. The answers would find him soon enough.

The wind was screaming again, and Greg's head popped out of the blanket. He flung his pillow at the window, his brow creased.

"Away, evil monsters!"

It struck with a dull, muted sound, falling back into the room. The windows swung open, and chilling winter wind rushed into the room. Greg squeaked and wrapped the blanket around his tiny body.

"Greg, don't do that."

Wirt stood to pick up the pillow, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. He tossed the pillow back onto his bed and turned to close the windows.

What had once been grass below his windowsill was now blanketed with pure white. Some might've found it pretty, even mystifying. To Wirt, it wasn't anything special. Just another thing that happened in the course of nature.

Something stirred in the snow.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned further out. Freezing air cut into his face, the windows so cold they seared his fingers. Wirt exhaled, and stared harder.

A woman―no, a girl―was crawling across the snow. He couldn't make it out as anyone he knew.

"Wirt, quick! Shut the window before the monsters attack again!" Greg cried.

"No, Greg, there's someone down there," he said, pulling his head back into the room and shutting the windows. The warmth of the room quickly seeped into his skin. He looked around his room, gaze flickering between the various items strewn across the floor. The realisation of what he would have to do next was sinking into his brain.

Greg pressed his hands to his cheeks, his mouth rounding in surprise. "The monsters have a hostage!"

Wirt was already fumbling with the buttons on his coat. "Greg, you stay here, okay? I have to check if she's okay."

"Wirt!" Greg shouted.

He looked back at his brother, kneeling on the bed. His lower lip stuck out in a pout. Wirt secured his hat on his head.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

He shut the door and raced downstairs.

He immediately regretted going outside. Winter air sliced through his coat like it was paper. Wirt wriggled his toes into his boots and trudged through the thick snow, the legs of his sweatpants soaked through after no more than two steps. He could see the figure, hobbling through the cold.

He breathed heavily under his coat, and wished he had a scarf. Something willed his legs to continue, bounding over heaps of snow. He willed this sudden fire inside him to carry on burning for as long as it could.

He slowed as he approached her, his mouth falling open.

A girl was bent over in the snow. He could hear her teeth chattering from where he stood. He hurried to her side, and noticed the snow lining her red hair. She had a thick, brown jacket over her, but nothing else that could have provided defense against the monstrous winds.

"H-Hey! Are you alright?" Wirt asked, trying to raise his voice over the howling wind.

The girl's face was as pale as a face could get. Shivering, she gazed up at Wirt, her eyes widening.

"W―"

"W-We gotta get out of here," he said, grabbing her wrist. It was almost as cold as the snow. "Run for a while."

She nodded.

They stumbled back to his house and he shut the door without another second to lose.

The girl collapsed onto the wooden floor, teeth still chattering rapidly. Wirt pulled off his coat and threw it over her as the warmth of his house embraced him gently.

Footsteps pattered down the stairs. "Whoa!" Greg gasped, stopping in the middle of the staircase.

"Shh," Wirt hissed, "don't wake up Mom and Dad. Stay here and make sure she doesn't die or anything."

He dashed to the kitchen and washed a mug. His heart was practically throwing itself into his ribcage.

It was _her_.

The girl of his dreams―_literally_. Of course, it was good he knew she existed and he wasn't going crazy―but why on earth was she here?

With shaking hands, he poured hot water into the mug and returned to the living room.

Greg was sitting beside her on the floor by the couch, Wirt's blanket over the two. He waved at Wirt with a wide grin.

"She's not dead!"

Wirt ignored him and knelt down in front of her. Her breath was still cold from being outside, and her hands trembled terribly as she accepted the water. It was minutes before she opened her mouth.

"Th-Thanks for saving me," she said.

The voice clicked in his mind.

"Beatrice?" Wirt and Greg said, glancing at one another.

"Beatrice, I thought you were a bird!" Greg said, his fists shaking with what Wirt presumed to be excitement. "You're a human?"

Beatrice carefully set the mug down beside her. She looked up at the two boys and smiled weakly. Her skin was still drained of colour, but her voice was steadying itself.

"I didn't tell you, Greg? I was a bluebird because I got cursed," she said softly, sitting up a little straighter against the couch. Wirt looked at her in awe.

So this was Beatrice, in her original form. He had to admit, he hadn't been expecting this. It still didn't explain why he kept seeing her. Why not Lorna? Why not the Woodsman?

"Cursed?" Greg threw up his hands. "So you're like a shape-shifter?"

"That's not really how it works, Greg," said Wirt. Beatrice turned to look at him, her breathing still laboured.

"Nice to see you again, doofus," she said, rubbing her arms under the blanket.

Wirt frowned, but he couldn't for long. He had to smile at her. It wasn't something he could resist. Seeing her again had been both utterly shocking and exhilarating.

"So you climbed over the wall this time?" he asked, trying to keep the curiosity from his voice. "Why'd you come here?"

"There's a story behind that, actually." Beatrice said, sticking her hand into the interior of her coat. She pulled out a small bag and handed it to Wirt.

The bag was warm against Wirt's fingers. "My mom wanted to repay you in some way, for helping our family. These are...cookies she made." Beatrice averted her gaze. "It's not much compared to how much you helped us, but if I'd carried anything heavier, I wouldn't have been able to get past the graveyard."

"That's..." Wirt ran his thumb along the papery packaging. "I―wow, thanks."

"Thank you, Beatrice!" Greg smiled and grabbed the bag. "Jason Funderberker loves cookies, y'know?"

"Jason Funderberker?" Beatrice cut Wirt a confused glance.

"It's the name of our frog," Wirt explained. "The perfect frog name."

"Wow, you finally found a name for him," Beatrice smiled at Greg. "That's nice."

Wirt found himself looking at her face. Freckles dotted the areas under her eyes and over her nose, which was red from the cold. The frost had melted from her hair, revealing it to be a much brighter shade of red than he'd first seen. He shifted.

_What are you doing?_"Oh, Wirt, how'd things go with Sara? You got her back from Jason yet?" asked Beatrice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. Turns out Jason was just a friend of hers," Wirt chuckled nervously. "You could say we've gotten closer."

Something flickered in her eyes. "Good for you, lover boy,"

For some reason, Wirt didn't feel good. He should have been―he'd been chasing Sara for goodness knows how long. His past self would've been proud.

Going through the Unknown had changed him, he supposed.

"So, uh...my parents aren't going to appreciate a random girl in my house tomorrow morning," Wirt rocked gently where he sat.

"Hey, don't worry. I'll be out of your hair once I can feel my toes again." Beatrice wiggled her fingers and stretched her legs out. She took another sip of the water.

"Oh," Wirt laughed, "great."

To be honest with himself, he didn't want her to leave. She'd just got here, for crying out loud. He hadn't realised how much he missed her snark. Save for the constant sound of flapping wings by his ear, she was really a pleasant person.

She had been the only one who supported his clarinet playing.

_If I say to you "To you I say," you have not been__  
><em>_set to music, or broadcast live on the ghost__  
><em>_radio, may never be an oil painting or__  
><em>_Old Master's charcoal sketch: you are__  
><em>_a concordance of person, number, voice,__  
><em>_and place, strawberries spread through your name.__  
><em>  
>"Wirt?" Greg's voice interrupted the poem he had been muttering under his breath.<p>

"Yeah?"

"I'm sleepy."

The little boy yawned. Wirt looked to the walls for a clock. It was already almost one in the morning. Greg shouldn't have been up this late.

"We'll get you to bed, then,"

"But what about the monsters?"

"Don't worry about the monsters, Greg. If Beatrice could fight her way through them, you can too." Wirt stood and took Greg's hand.

Greg smiled sleepily. "Okay. I'm just glad you were here to help defend against them."

Wirt glanced at Beatrice, but she wasn't looking back. Her eyes studied the floor.

"I'll be right back," he called anyway, and led Greg up to his room. He retrieved his pillow and tucked the small boy into bed.

"Wirt?" Greg asked again, snuggling into his pillow.

"What, Greg?" Wirt touched his brother's hair. It was damp with sweat.

"I'm glad we could see Beatrice again,"

Sleep had taken Greg. Wirt gazed thoughtfully at him. How easily sleep came to the younger child, he would never know. Wirt was beginning to feel tired himself, but he told himself he couldn't fall asleep before making sure Beatrice was all right.

He headed back down to the living room to see his coat and blanket lying on the floor, next to an empty mug. Beatrice was buttoning up her own, and Wirt noticed the bleached blue shade of the dress she wore.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"Can't stay forever," she shrugged, their gazes meeting. Her eyes were suddenly so enchanting, Wirt could've gotten lost in them. _What was that? _He took a step closer to her.

"Thanks for coming. You sure you'll be okay? No need me to escort you to the wall or anything?" Wirt twiddled his thumbs.

Beatrice's eyes shone as she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around the shorter boy. The gentle warmth of the hug caught him by surprise. It was something he rarely got nowadays. Wirt awkwardly hugged her back. Her body was still cold, but she felt much warmer than from before.

Beatrice pushed him away so she could grin at him. "I can take care of myself, Wirt. Don't worry and get some sleep, all right?"

She was _so_ close, close enough so he could see her collarbones, and he was holding his breath. He didn't let go of her waist, and she didn't release him from her grasp. He was sweating. When was he supposed to let go?

"All right," he whispered.

Beatrice chuckled and let go, gradually, her hands sliding down his arms and disconnecting at his fingertips. "Silly boy. You need to come back and visit soon. Bring Greg, okay? I've got a little brother just like him."

"Really?" Wirt felt colder without her.

Beatrice nodded, and then she was gone.

Wirt watched her from the window as she sprinted from the door in the direction of the graveyard. His breath made mist on the glass. He sank down and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chin. _You have Sara. Do you really want Beatrice too?_

"I loved you first: but afterwards your love  
>Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song<br>As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove."

Wirt stood and returned to bed, leaving the still-warm cookies on the coffee table.

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><p><strong>respective poetry taken from:<strong>

**You, Therefore by Reginald Shepherd**  
><strong>I Loved You First by Christina Rossetti<strong>

**which are both really sweet poems so go check 'em out!**

**thank you for reading and have a blessed day! c:**


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